


Gabriel’s Omega

by jarethsdragon



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: A/B/O, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Breeding, F/M, Gabriel is away, Masturbation, Omegaverse, Pregnancy, heat - Freeform, in heat
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2019-02-06 01:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12806571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jarethsdragon/pseuds/jarethsdragon
Summary: Gabriel’s omega finds herself alone during her heat when Soldier:76 breaks into the base.





	1. Chapter 1

 

Gabriel nuzzled your neck gently. For such a supremely tough and macho guy, an apex alpha, he was amazingly gentle when he cared to be. And he cared to be with you.

“Carino,” he sighed, pressing a kiss to your neck. “You are so good to me.”

“I am your omega,” you panted softy.

He laughed gently, the sound rumbling down in his chest in a breathless way. Thin tendrils of whispy black floated around him, but, for the moment, he had consumed his fill of souls or energy or whatever it was that helped him stay together. He was careful to not get too low, especially near your heats.

Kneading your breast, he smiled gently. You shifted, spreading your legs a little wider so that he could press even closer to you. “You know, I can never give you the pups you deserve, mamacita,” he whispered.

You smiled at him. “I know, Gabe,” you whispered softly in return. “It’s—it’s okay. I know that.” You shrug gently. “And...hey, it means that my heats never stop.”

He grinned wickedly and squeezed your breast again. “I guess that there is that for us.”

His communicator blinked. Growling, he answered it, snapping, “What is it?”

A voice crackled of the device. “New mission. We’re leaving in two hours.”

“Understood,” he muttered and turned it off.

He glanced at you shyly. With a shrug, he tossed the communicator aside. “You know what to do, right?”

“Sure,” you smile at him. “If my heat comes while you’re gone, I get down to the locker and lock myself in.”

“There’s plenty of rations—water and food—and there’s a nest in the corner.” He smirked at you. “Just stay away from the weapons.” You nod—it wasn’t like you were strong enough to handle the immense shotguns anyway. “In fact—I think that I am about due for a rut, so you need to definitely be in a heat when I get back.”

You smirk at him. There was no way you wanted to miss his rut, but it wasn’t like you had control of your heats either. “I just need to be dressed.”

“Not in this lifetime,” he growled. “Only if you need to go to the locker.” He smirked. “And don’t use suppressants, eh, carino? I need you hot and ready.”

So, you smiled and wished him well. The mission was expected to last only a few days, and it wasn’t like he hadn’t really set up the whole area of the locker for you anyway. In a base teaming with alphas and betas who were trying to pretend to be alphas, you occasionally needed to be protected during your regular heats. So, like a good alpha, he set up the nest, the extensive rations—freeze dried crap and other stuff like granola and nuts—and the crates of water, a small communicator, and even an emergency case of injectors with suppressants, so that, just in case he was gone while you were in heat, you had a place to go that you would be safe.

Because everyone knew that you didn’t touch the Reaper’s stuff.

Unfortunately, his mission went long—and, just as unfortunately—he was right and you went into heat. Dutifully, you crept to the locker. Thankfully, with the mission still going on, so the base was largely empty of alphas.

The heavy steel door clanged shut and you went to the nest. A foam mat was on the floor, topped with a three inch memory foam pad and then a collection of blankets and pillows. You went there immediately and began pulling out a toy from underneath the pillows. There was even an old black t-shirt with a white skull printed on it that smelled of him that you could slide on.

Three orgasms later, the heat was in full swing and burying your nose into the shirt was no longer even trying to help. You fingered the small communicator—you had sent him three short messages (“I needs help”, “I am in heat”, and “I need you”) and he hadn’t replied. You had grabbed a bottle of water and began alternating swigging the water and plunging the immense toy between your legs.

He hadn’t replied, so maybe he was busy. He was often the keystone to missions, but this was a hell of a time to get knee deep in whatever he was in.

There was a fluttering in the floor and you took the last swig of water before tossing the bottle aside. Whining, you pulled out the toy and began suckling it. This had to be him.... He’d unlock the four—or was it five?—different locks on the three inch wide door. He’d slide in, collapse on the nest and plow into your wet body and then the heat could really be sated. Smiling, you took out the steel chain and collar from under the blankets and put it on because there was nothing he liked better than coming into his locker and finding you all locked up.

Thank goodness, too. Because those injectable suppressants were looking better and better. If you snapped and took them, then you’d be a cold fish for a week and he’d be in a rut when he got back....

You were spread wide, panting and praying for him, when you saw the locks start to glow hot. That was not Reaper coming—and your mouth went dry. Panting, you forced the toy in as far as it could go and curled up. The metal glowed faintly and then brighter, turning red and then yellow and even briefly white before a heavy boot came crashing through and forcing the door open.

You swallowed, curling away into the corner. If only you hadn’t pulled out the chain, you’d at least have a way to defend yourself. Now, you were helpless.

Soldier: 76–you knew who he was from the numerous news reports and then photos that Gabriel seemed to collect—sauntered in, sniffing the air.

“Hey, Winston,” he chuckled coldly. “Don’t monitor this channel for a while.”

Whatever Winston said in return, you didn’t hear. Not that you could do anything about it anyway—the heat was forcing you to whine helplessly in the corner. The immense soldier stalked over, pointing the pulse rifle at you. Glancing at the white case with its injectables neatly arranged inside, he kicked it across the locker, the injectors going everywhere and rolling underneath the heavy steel ammo cases.

“Look at this,” came the gravely voice in a mocking sweet tone. “A sweet little omega in heat....” The laser sight on the rifle dipped slightly to touch on the little sugar skull tattoo on your trembling shoulder. “Reaper’s omega.”

You took a deep breath—hoping to calm your nerves—and instantly regretted it. This soldier was another alpha—big surprise—but he was also in a rut. The room was instantly boiling with the pheromones and your heat pulled them all in eagerly. The scent burned into you, forcing your feet to curl and your body to go liquid.

“Y-y-you’re gonna regret this,” you panted with your throat dry.

“Nah,” he rasped out, the mask making his voice sound even more gravely. “But you’re gonna love it.”

He crept forward, keeping his pulse rifle leveled at you. Not that you could exactly do anything since the heat was blinding you to anything else than the damning scent that filled the air. “Now why don’t you take that toy out and toss it over there?”

You tried—you really tried—to growl something in return. But it came out strangely strangled—a raspy whine. You shook your head weakly, the heat curling around your stomach and choking around your throat. You weren’t even considering following that command until the high pitched whine of the pulse rifle sounded and the tip lit up with a hectic lightning blue.

With a grunt, you pulled the toy out with a slick pop and gave it a weak toss. It landed on the floor with a squeak and 76 kicked it aside. The rifle powered down with a hiss.

“There’s a good girl,” he nodded. “Now, be a good omega and lay back and enjoy it.”

He set the pulse rifle down against the opposite wall and for one blistering moment, you wanted to get your hands on it. Deliberately slowly, he pulled his signature leather coat off and you couldn’t rip your eyes from his skin tight T-shirt that rippled over his abs and pecs.

Your mind was hazy and he leapt at you. With blinding efficiency, he had you rolled on your stomach, on your knees and your hands cuffed behind your back with state of the art cuffs. With a flick of his wrist, he pulled out a small switchblade and cut the black shirt off of you.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he cooed in a syrupy sweet voice as he tossed the destroyed shirt. “You don’t need that rag anymore.” Spreading out the coat, he pushed your face into it. “Just breath deep, honey—take in my scent.”

You choked out a breath and shook your head weakly. His leather glove tangled into your sweaty hair and he rubbed your nose into the sweaty leather jacket—right in the armpits where his sweaty scent was strongest. You sucked in a breath, breathing in the unfamiliar and overwhelming scent.

“That’s it, baby.”

You bucked backwards. The scent choked you and filled you. It almost made you sick, the unfamiliar scent filling your lungs and swirling in your gut. There was the sound of leather and buckles behind you and all you could focus on was that you couldn’t get away from that scent.

“It’s gonna be in your lungs,” he whispered mockingly. “Just breath it in and let it imprint, baby.”

No...not the imprint. For any omega, it was a first key to bonding with a mate. An alpha’s scent helped prep the omega for breeding. A new alpha’s scent could force an omega’s body to abort another alpha’s pups.

“Just breath it in,” 76 growled, shoving your head into the jacket again.

The slick running down your thighs agreed with him. Instinctively, your belly cramped and you buckled with it. A large, muscular and gloved hand covered your belly, massaging from your waist down in rolling strokes. It pressed the air from your lungs as he kept pressing and squishing your stomach like he was squeezing out the juice from a fruit. Another trail of slick pumped through your cunt as your womb pumped out the non-existent pups to be ready for this alpha’s litter.

The cramps didn’t last long and there was no blood or discharge because there were no pups already inside you. You felt a block in your throat and tears trickled your cheeks as he kept squeezing. Unwanted heat flowed down from your stomach to settle in your breasts and cunt.

As he felt your cramps ease, the alpha smiled wickedly. “No pups, baby?” He smoothed his fingers and rubbed down. “I guess that wraith wasn’t man enough to give them to you?” He laughed again. “Don’t worry, honey—I’ll make sure you have some good strong pups.”

You felt your body relax as the cramps eased and you felt the heat climb in your blood. He felt it, too. He could see it in how your back eased and you became more supple.

“That’s it, little omega,” he praised, loosening his hand in your hair. “Just get ready for me.”

Suddenly there was a hot cock against your hip. You jerked helplessly, your hips shaking as his large hands gripped your waist. He was hot—so hot. His hands were hot. His hips were hot. That thick tongue lapping at your neck was hot. His breath was hot. His cock was hot as he rubbed it dryly over your hips.

Your mind shuttered, going mercifully blank for a moment. Gabriel was so cool. It was a blessing to have his cool hands, his cool lips counterbalancing the heat in your blood. Even his seed that filled your body was cool. Your eyes closed as you imagined his cool body over you.

With a slap of a white hot hand on your ass, 76 brought you back to the horrifying present. “Don’t zone out on me, sweetheart.” He laughed wickedly with both hands squeezing your hips. “I want you to remember every part of this.”

You moaned, jerking as he arranged you on your knees with your face still pressed into that leather jacket. Your mouth drooled across the slick nylon lining of the coat as he pressed you into the armpits where his scent would be the strongest. With a soft cry, you felt his hands run up and down restlessly. “P-p-please don’t do this.”

“Aww, honey,” he chuckled. “If only that worthless Reyes had kept his head down, done what I told him, then maybe I would stop.” His voice turned arctic cold. “But I got twenty or more agents that are gonna be in med bay for weeks—if they even make it that far. I got hundreds more that he’s laid low already.” His voice went crazy low, like it was a voice from the grave. “And now I’ve got his favorite play toy.”

“N-no,” you pant.

With an arrogant toss of his head that you feel more than see, you feel the smooth head against your cunt and one rough hand on your hip and the other—oh fuck. That other hand was tracing down your spine to your ass and down to that tight bundle of nerves that screamed for attention.

“Are you even listening to me?” He smacked your ass hard again, giggling as you screamed. “I think that it’s time for you to be a good omega and start thinking about...pups.”

With a single, powerful thrust, he was in and ripping you open. There was no “ready, set, go”. Just a ripping and tearing feeling as his cock stretched you beyond what you thought your limits were. Burning filled your belly as his body filled you. But it was still not enough as the first hint of a knot was still outside, waiting for its chance. His next thrust almost lifted you off the floor.

With a shriek, you bucked backwards, pushing him away from you. It was useless, though. He was so deep, it felt like he was bumping into your soul. And the hopeless heart that belonged to his mortal enemy. He barely moved—only an inch or two.

He laughed, jerking his hips a little as he settled in again. Instantly, his hands slapped your ass, pounding out huge flowers of pink and red as he spanked you. There was not an ounce of mercy as his strong hands punished your ass.

Then, just as suddenly, he was done, squeezing and rubbing the sore flesh like a lover. His hands—those boiling hot hands—split up with military precision. One moved north to begin gently squeezing your breasts as though he were—as though he were pumping milk from them. The other went south, darting between your legs to begin stroking your clit.

“You’re gonna be a beautiful mother,” he smiled, his body curled over yours and his voice brushing your ear. A massive hand covered one breast and began gently pumping. His voice dropped to a purr. “Just imagine. These tits will be filled with sweet, hot milk. All swollen and hot and filled with milk.” Both hand now covered your breasts, pumping the left and then the right like he was expecting streams of milk to shoot out. “And imagine my pups begging for these tits and to start suckling for that milk.”

With a steady rhythm, he began snapping his hips. The hand on your breast squeezed, pulling down to the taut nipple and the rough calloused thumb moved to the tight clit between your legs and rubbed down in time to his pumps. “Now...you get to be a mama.”

You gasp, sucking in the poisonous air laden with the new alpha’s scent. “N-n-no...no.”

“Oh yeah,” he grunted, grinding his hips and switching to a circular rub on your clit. “It’s fairly obvious that he’s not got what it takes to give them to you.”

You howled as suddenly your heat responded. Instinctively, you curled up and rolled your hips, welcoming 76 in with a gush of warmth and wet. Your eyes glazed over and you began licking the coat, the scent finally imprinted on your brain.

“I can feel you,” he singsonged. “Your body knows that this is what you need.”

You bucked backwards, feeling that overheated knot right there at your entrance. God, Gabriel never felt this hot—this alive. You had forgotten what it was to have a living man next to you, on top of you. Rolling your hips, you felt the rhythm beginning to pick up speed. It was an effortless flow backward and forward that began to feel like the rhythm of your own heartbeat.

“Faster,” he ordered. “You gotta be faster to get me off and get what you need.”

With a half-hearted growl, you slammed back harder, his length pummeling your womb. The burning, tearing feeling was gone and in its place was a smooth, slick hell of heat. Even your own slick seemed burning hot as it slopped wetly down your leg to the mat beneath your knees.

With a shriek, that burning feeling came over you. In a tidal wave of wet, hot lava, you felt your muscles clamp down around him. An ache in your gut exploded over your body. The howl of the alpha behind you as your muscles squeeze that cock inside you sounded faint compared to your own wail.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he panted as he felt your tight cunt flutter around his cock. “You’re so damn tight I might not be able to get out.” He puffed out a breath, his hands gripping your hips in a bruising grip. “Would you like that? For me to just go ahead and claim you and get you out of this basement?”

You shook your head weakly. With a groan, you could feel the shaking pumps in your belly. The alpha wasn’t even knotted yet, let alone done. “J-j-just...get done....”

“What honeylips?” He was smiling, that hot tongue swirling a random pattern on your spine. He suckled the tips of your fingers and nuzzled the cuffs on your wrists. “Just tell me what you want and you just might get it.”

“Get it over with already!” you hissed softly, with a weak pull forward.

“You’re so tight I might not leave,” he laughed, his cock twitching. “But don’t worry. I am not gonna leave you just yet.”

The rough callous ground against your overstimulated clit. You whined as that pressure screeched through you from your knees up to your waist. With a shiver, you bumped back against him, the knot nudging you from behind.

“You’re such a good little breeder,” he praised. “But you’ve got to keep going just a little more ‘til you do it right. Your heat will ramp up here again soon.” He started pumping gently again, amused as you shuddered. It wasn’t long before you were responding, the heat forcing you to keep up with his pumping. “There you go, sweetheart.”

The heat coiled around your belly and 76’s hands seemed to be everywhere. Two roaming hands massaged the hot handprints on your ass, pumping your breasts, rubbing that screaming clit. There wasn’t any escape, no way to move that his firm grip didn’t direct.

“Now, you gotta take my knot,” he whispered. Almost gently, he gathered your sweaty hair into his fist. “You gotta do this right, don’t you, my sweet little omega?”

You felt the fist jerk your head up and down in a nodding motion. Then, with gentle pulls and pushes, he rocked you back against him and then froward again. That heat was coiling inside of you again, forcing your body to become pliant and hot and wet for the pleasure of the alpha. You clamped down on him as hard as you could—the only form of protest you could manage.

“That’s right, baby,” he growled as he hammered forward. “Just welcome me in and milk me with that tight cunt of yours.” He slammed forward again, rocking both of you forward. “Milk every last drop of cum out of me.”

It made a backwards sense to your befuddled senses. He was stuck here too—his alpha rut forcing him to do this as much as your heat. With a breathless squeeze, you bucked backwards in response.

“Oh yeah,” he praised. “Don’t stop doing that.”

The huge cock kept hammering your womb, which cramped in protest. Wailing, you clenched up and began rocking in his punishing rhythm. His cock seemed to keep growing, keep filling you up wider and deeper. Faster and faster he filled you and emptied you only to fill you again. The knot kept nudging you, forcing your entrance to stretch open.

With a scream, you bucked backwards and his knot slid inside. Groaning, you felt your entrance stretch to accommodate that swollen knot, burning and grating despite the gushing slick coating you both.

“That’s it, bitch,” he hissed, pumping harder. “Take my knot. Take it in.”

With a backward lunge, he groaned to feel the pull of his knot in your tight cunt. “Oh yeah—you can’t escape me now. You’re gonna be full of my pups.”

Wailing, you felt the rhythm take over and you thrust in time with his pumping. Now that you were knotted, he was grinding against you, the tip scratching against your womb. With a few more pumps, you were slobbering as you felt your climax—the climax of a knotted omega—beginning to build.

“Go ahead,” he shouted. “Give it a yell, omega. Tell me how you feel.” He ground against you again, a rough finger pinching your tight clit again. “Tell me how good you I’m making your cunt feel.”

The scream was inevitable and every muscle clamped down as the fiery climax rolled over you. With a hoarse cry, he plowed against you, forcing you both flat against the mat. The hot cum burst into you and filled your cunt. You felt the liquid explode in you.

A strong arm wriggled and wrapped around your hips, pulling you back on your knees. A sweaty hand began massaging your aching lower belly, pushing the sore swelling upward. You wriggled as the liquid was pushed closer and closer to your unwilling womb. With an aching push, you felt a little knot of the liquid squish inside.

“There baby,” he panted. “Just let it sit there so that my pups can get planted.” He kept rubbing you, pushing the boiling cum upward. “You are gonna be a beautiful mother of my pups.”

He laughed softly his hands still pressing up. “I can just see you, all puffed up and full of my pups. Your breasts all full of milk—so full that it drips down and drips on your belly. I can see you all sweaty and pushing out my pups and listening to them cry for you. You’re just gonna be a beautiful mother—all my pups running around you.”

After some period of silent time as he kept pushing that demon hot seed upwards, the knot gradually shrank. With a slick, wet pop, it slid out. The warm seed flooded out, dripping out with a metallic, salty smell

“There you go,” he smiled.

You collapsed. There was no other word for it as you sank into a boneless heap. With a whimpering cry, you couldn’t even push the cum off your thighs. The heat was gone—completely—and wouldn’t come back.

Soldier: 76 stood, backing away and tucking himself away. Carelessly, he buckled his belt and straightened his pants. He even whistled as he yanked the offensive coat out from under you. With a last glance, he pulled off the tight shirt and tossed it on your head, saying, “Just so you remember me.” At your moan, he said, “And tell Reyes ‘hi’ for me, okay?”

Then, without another backward glance, he slid on the infamous jacket, zipped it up and picked up the pulse rifle and left you alone in a mess of slick and cum. You couldn’t do much more than roll over to get out of the chilled liquid soaking the mat as he turned back on the communicator, resuming talking to Winston.

And that’s how Gabriel found you that night.


	2. Chapter 2

Gabriel stomped down the corridor to the storage areas. He had been gone too long and the mission had gone so wrong. He had no idea what devil had decided to occupy itself by foiling his team, but if he ever found out, he’d gun that bastard down.

At least he hadn’t gone into a rut yet, but he was very close. It probably would only take a few hours in your company to get there, but for right now he only wanted to be held close and to be reminded of good things, soft things and quiet things. He wanted to feel you alive in his arms.

Of course, he’d managed to bring the team back only to find that the base had been attacked in his absence. Sombra was working feverishly to determine what intel had been stolen. Widowmaker was investigating the traps and the entrance of the raiding party to determine countermeasures. Dios only knew what else had gone wrong.

But first, he needed to make sure that you were well and sate your heat. You’d likely be annoyed that he had been right about your heat coming soon—he always seemed to know a few days before even you were aware of it.

His mind was happily contemplating the way that he was going to pin you to the floor, when he saw the blast marks on the walls. Pulling off his mask and glancing around, he was first assaulted by the fading scent of a rutting alpha. Growling, he hoped that it was simply that Akande had come down here before him since the Nigerian had two storage lockers in this direction as well. That man was going through a rut that was absolutely miserable since it had started the day that the team left—and he had made the entire team equally miserable since he had left his omega behind.

The scent was an olfactory set of nails on a chalkboard, setting Gabriel’s teeth on edge the further he went down the hallway. He was sure that a rutting alpha had come down this hallway—probably just hours before he had. Then it occurred to him what was driving him particularly crazy.

There was no trace of your heat. Not a whiff.

He thundered down the hallway, skidding around the corner to the storage locker. The wide door—several inches of an incredibly strong alloy—gaped open. The multiple locks on the door were simply melted away, as if they were blasted by a long term beam from a pulse rifle. The holes in the doorpost that normally held the bolts were ripped to pieces.

Dropping his mask and running in, he saw you as Soldier:76 left you—with the steel “play” chain around your neck on the thick nest with your wrists bound with an elaborate electric set of cuffs. Of course, damn his luck, it was one of the new ones that were marketed as unbreakable and unpickable. The injectors of suppressants were scattered across the room, the box against a crate of shotgun rounds. The toy that you liked best was tossed in a corner. The stench of a rut filled the air and there were wide round splotches on the sheets and blankets under you.

Growling and fearing the worst, he crept over and touched your shoulder, caressed the sugar skull tattoo.

You yelped and squirmed in response, gasping nervously and shaking as though you were rising from a nightmare.

“Calm down, carino,” he rumbled.

You looked up at him, your face breaking out into a timid smile. “You’re back.”

“I’m back, carino,” he nodded with an air of distraction, sniffing the air. “What happened?”

You couldn’t help the tears that flowed down your cheeks as you told him what happened, how Soldier:76 had come in during your heat and what he had done to you. How you had been knotted. His hand continued to be gentle as he brushed your hair out of your face, but his other hand curled into a fist, tighter and tighter.

He was shaking as he called Sombra. Depressingly easily, she shut down the electronic cuffs, releasing your sore arms. Grabbing him, you sobbed into his armor. The chains and toys were kicked aside as he brought you to your shared quarters.

He ran you a hot bath, dropped a heavy scoop of mineral salts (the bath salts you had hand mixed with herbs, essential oils and salts to soothe weary muscles) in the swirling water and a few drops of bath oil. While you shakily sank into the tub, he fixed you a snack and a drink—a few microwave churros and the champuraddo hot chocolate—and crept back. You didn’t even look up at him as he slid in with the colorfully painted plate and mug.

“Chica, I brought you a snack,” he whispered, setting it down on the hamper beside the tub. You shoved it aside weakly. “You have to eat.”

“I don’t want it,” you snapped, looking away.

He sat down—lurching in his heavy battle armor still—on the toilet and looked at you. He hadn’t even showered or shaved his bristly cheeks and the sweat made his hair curl wildly in all kinds of directions. “Hermosa...please eat.” He picked up a churro and waved it at you. “It’s your favorite.”

“Cheesecake is my favorite,” you snapped in return, tears in your eyes. You weren’t sure what made you say that—more to argue than to turn down the warm churros.

“Should I go out now?”

You glanced up at him—and he was dead serious. He really would do it. He’d go out right this instant and find you cheesecake. In his full armor, his mask and probably with his shotguns, too. He’d waltz into whatever store or bakery he could find, all in black and swaggering with his shotguns to bring you back what you asked for.

Your eyes squeezed shut. You don’t want to deal with anything and you sure as hell did not want to face Gabriel, but the sinfully rich smell of cinnamon and chocolate was filling the air. Finally, you turned to pick up a crusty churro and dunk it in the hot drink.

“It’s your favorite,” he singsonged roughly.

You nodded slightly, enjoying the taste of cinnamon and pastry and chocolate spreading across your tongue. The warmth was finally seeping in your bones and you began unfolding in the warm bath. You finally stretched out, the warmth unlocking your muscles and making you feel secure under your alpha’s eyes.

“Are you okay, mi alma?”

“I.... I don’t know,” you admitted softly as he brushed crumbs off your face. You looked up at him mournfully. “I don’t know.”

He hummed softly and turned on the vent before dropping in a few more splashes of your bath oil. You looked up at him in confusion and hurt as he whispered, “Mi amor. Would you talk to me?”

You nodded shortly, feeling a nervous sweat break out on your forehead. Hell, Soldier: 76 was his mortal enemy—the world would end before either of them would give up trying to kill each other. And now you were likely pregnant with that enemy’s pups. What would your alpha say to that? Especially since you had howled in unwilling pleasure.

A dark flush stained your cheeks and you couldn’t look at him. He only folded his fingers into a double fist and leaned on it with his elbows on his knees, giving no clue as to what he was thinking or feeling. The only shred of evidence of his feelings was the thin lines of black smoke curling off his face.

“Gabriel,” you whispered, ducking your head between your bent knees so that he couldn’t see the tears in your eyes. “I’m so sorry.”

“It is not your fault,” he whispered in return, matching your soft tone. Glancing down at his folded hands, he looked almost like he was praying. “Are you able to talk about it?”

Your eyes squeezed out some tears. “What is there to say? I was in heat. He burst in and knotted me. I’m no longer in heat.” You brushed your face with a nervous hand. “And now I’m... I’m....!”

“You are here,” he said reasonably. “In our quarters.” He reached out and stroked your shoulder. “And we are going to talk about what to do now—when you are able.” He took in a shuddering breath and shrugged. “I’m kind of hoping it will be soon, because I’m going to hit my rut soon and want to know what you want to do.”

You splashed angrily and wiped your face with the warm water. Tears filled your eyes. “What does it matter?” You snatched up another churro and chomped through it. “I’m going to be a cold fish and you’re going to be in your rut with some other omega and I’m stuck with that bastard’s pups.” Your nervous hands turned the crispy churro to a flaky pulp as tears ran down your flushed cheeks. “And then—then I’m going to be kicked out and—!”

Gabriel chuckled, his voice deep in his chest and echoing in his heavy armor. “No. Calmate, mi alma.” His hand brushed your hair gently. “Will you listen to me for a moment?”

You hiccuped and nodded shakily. Restlessly, you brushed the churro pulp from your hands and into the tiny bathroom trash can. Out of sheer irritation at your shaking and fury, you ground another one into a similar pulp.

He sighed, looking at you with warm brown eyes. “Carino—.”

“Just get to it.” You shot him a sour face that felt pale. “Am I packing up now?”

“No, no,” he laughed sadly. “But I want you to think of something.” His hands collected your hair and wrapped it into a loose coil down your back. “We have been together for what—six years?”

“Five,” you muttered softly. “And eight months.” You could tell him the number of days too, if he asked. And the number of days until your next anniversary, as well.

“And in all that time—all those heats—you have not had pups from me,” he continued. His white teeth flashed for a moment. “You know that I cannot give you pups, mamacita?” You nodded shortly and began shaking so hard that the water formed endless restless ripples. “And...you would make a beautiful mother.”

You looked up at him sadly as his hand stroked your cheek. “What are you saying?”

“Mi alma,” he whispered. “This may be our opportunity.”

“Opportunity?”

“Your little...misadventure has given us the possibility of pups,” he pointed out. He shrugged a little too casually. “Pups that you would never have from me, carino.” He shrugged again. “Perhaps we can make some limonada, eh?”

You blinked at him in confusion. “L-l-limonada?”

“Lemonade,” he clarified. “What if...what if we simply have the pups?”

You splashed him, drenching his legs in bath water. “Your worst enemy’s pups.” You hissed at him. You splashed him then, too, spreading floral scented water over his harsh leather armor. “Only the worst person in the world to be a father.”

He chuckled and nodded with a casual shrug. “It’s not my ideal either. But I think that you deserve to be a mother—to know the love and blessings de ninos e ninas.” He smiled. “And I have to confess that I want to see you—your curves and your beauty and you holding your pups.”

“I won’t be replaced, Reaper,” you spat out with venom. Rising from the tub, you snatched up a towel, carelessly hitting the plate and cup. The colorful pottery shattered on the floor at his feet. “You won’t...!”

Stalking to the bedroom, you flopped down on the bed and buried your face into the pillow. Tears leaked out and dropped onto the soft pillow as you sobbed. Biting the pillow and tugging on the case, you glared at the small picture of you and Reaper that you kept on the bedside table. “Bastard. Cold-hearted, evil, scum. I’m not gonna just get replaced. Not like this.”

The bedroom door opened softly and Reaper glided in. “Cara mia. Talk to me.” He gestured. “Yell at me. Scream at me. Hit me if you want.” He swallowed heavily. “But at least listen to me.

“I cannot change what happened to you.” He shook his head and his hands clenched and unclenched into tight, meaty fists. “And I’d give anything to change it, carino, believe me.” He came over gingerly, perching on the tip of the bed. “If you are carrying pups—even his pups—then maybe we should take this as a hidden blessing. You could be a mami.”

You growled and snatched up the pillow. Whipping around as hard as you can, you slammed it at his face. He vanished into wraith form and the weaponized pillow whizzed through the air. Off balance, your body spun uncontrollably. The pillowcase slid from your grasp and the pillow hit the wall with a thud. You spun uncontrollably, wobbled and landed with a thud on the sheets.

“Mamacita,” he whispered, his accent thickening as he laughed. “You are irreplaceable.” He picked up the pillow. “Attacking the Reaper with a pillow!” He tossed the pillow back at you with a tiny fraction of his strength. It smacked your shoulder and you jerked at it even though it was gentle. “Overwatch should be pounding down the door to find you.”

“Pah!” you snapped. It felt good to smack that pillow, though.

“If you don’t want the pups,” he whispered with a trace of...something. “Then our choice is simple. Albeit painful for you.” His hands shook as he looked at you. A man staring down a firing squad would have looked like him as he watched you. “I can simply claim you back.”

You glared at him. Then you felt your lip tremble as he simply stood there, watching you. Another horrific mating with an alpha in a rut—cramping and spewing as your body tried to imprint back on him. This one would be worse—there were actually pups growing in you now, you just knew it. Your stomach involuntarily clenched at the memory.

“I can give you a new imprint,” he continued even more gently. “I will take you and your body will reject any pups. My rut would be an ideal time.” His voice furred again as he cursed in thick Spanish. “It would...hurt, mi alma.” He nodded to himself. “I could give you...something for the pain.” He shrugged again. “I think that probably Akande or his omega have something that would help with that.”

“Akande’s omega must be terrified to carry his pups,” you snapped back. “She’s probably scared that they’ll rip her apart.”

“Is that what you think?” Gabriel laughed before lowering his tone again. “My bet is she’s scared of bearing his pups because she’s scared she will lose them and that he will replace her then.” He shrugged. “But we were not talking about Akande, mi alma.”

“You won’t replace me, will you, Gabriel?” You began shaking uncontrollably. The air was suddenly cold and dry, making you thirsty and yet giving you shivers. That made flickers of anger stir and stiffen your spine—you had always been happy and safe here until that bastard came.

“Never,” he smiled, taking you in his arms. Wrapping you up close, even though he was stiff with armor, he cradled you close. “What kind of man do you think I am?”

“A very handsome one,” you whispered back. You didn’t add anything more. He was macho and arrogant enough without you admitting that you were terrified that some more erotic and exotic omega would attract his interest. Unfortunately, you shuddered, thinking about your body being swollen with a hated child and an irresistible alpha.

“Just think about what I said,” he breathed against your face. A trace of cigar smoke and a taste of tequila were on his lips. “We can raise pups.”

“Here?” You giggled a little nervously. “Really?”

“Why not?” His chin tilted up and he grinned. “There’s plenty of room to run.”

“On the five mile running track,” you retorted.

“Lots of interesting people.”

“Most of them with high enough prices on their heads that Croesus would be stunned.”

“Plenty to learn.”

“Sure. Shooting. Gambling. Racketing—.”

“‘Racketeering’,” he corrected absently. “And don’t forget computers, hand-to-hand combat, martial arts, languages, bomb making and disposal.”

“And killing people,” you added sarcastically.

“That’s for extra credit.” He kissed the top of your head. “As long as we keep him away from McCree, a pup could learn a lot.” Gingerly, he stroked your breast. “And you can.... You can finally be a mother—if you choose.”

He gestured meaningfully. “Either way, it’s your choice.” He kissed the top of your forehead. “If you want to be a mother, then I am pleased to be a papa—no matter who the father is. If not, then there are any number of ways that we can...relieve you of the problem.”

He backed away from you. “Just think about it, carino.” He picked up a shotgun and slung it over his massive shoulder. “I’m going out for a while so that—just in case—my rut doesn’t hurt the pups.” He shuddered and even now, laden with a litter of pups, you could smell the faint spicy musk that signaled the beginning of his ruts. Tossing you a communicator, he turned towards the open door. “When you make your decision—no matter what it is—then you can reach me.”

And with that, he walked out.

The first hours, you howled and screamed into the communicator, and got simple texts in return. He wanted to have some time—that was logical, considering. But it got you nowhere fast. Frustrated, you flopped down to watch an old movie and think.

So, you were left with a tiny communicator and a lot of heavy questions. Yes or no. Yes—have the pups with no resemblance to your alpha and sired by an evil monster. No—go through heavy-duty pain and kill the only hope that you have for kids. You peeked out the window of the quarters at the base in the evening—seeing the lights flicker on and the changing of the patrols. A young, coltish figure ran after them and you smiled at the obvious eagerness in the gait of the shadowy figure—it was so like a teenager running after a gang of friends.

Somewhere out there was a huge shooting range, a gym and a motley collection of heavy weight battle stations, unofficial watering holes with enough alcohol to power New York, a couple of warehouses for various piece of cargo that may or may not be legal.

A knock sounded at your door. Restless, you killed the movie and answered it, pocketing the tiny communicator. Two tall females stood there—the solemn Widowmaker (you didn’t know her real name) and a tall, dark skinned woman with white markings on her face who was obviously Akande’s omega.

In a thick accent that was smooth and beautiful, the omega spoke eagerly, “Gabriel reached out to us. We have heard that you might need some friends.”

Tears sprang up to your eyes, clouding the vision of the two women. Wordlessly you nodded and let them in. Widowmaker stalked in blankly—looking like an automaton without emotion—while the other woman took your hands and led you back inside.

“Come. Come,” she whispered. “My mother’s people believed that when an omega has her first litter, she needs friends and gentle care.” She looked at you with a worried smile. “But I have not introduced myself—I am Mara.”

“M-m-Mara,” you repeated with a stammer.

Mara led you over to the couch and sat you down. Widowmaker loomed over you without a flicker of emotion. “My dear, Akande has told me of the terrible attack—.”

She did not get farther than that before you burst into tears. “It’s not fair,” you wailed. “It’s not fair that one time with him and I get caught when Gabriel...a-a-and I—!”

Mara tutted and nodded, gently patting your back. She looked amazing—thin with dark skin like chocolate and wild hair with thin braids with beads on them that only made her seem primeval and powerful. Elaborate gold earrings dripped from her ears and she had gold bracelets on each arm. Granted, she was wearing a bathrobe—but what a robe with its costly green silk and golden embroidered cheetahs and tigers. An ivory bracelet or piece of tusk wrapped around one wrist and soft kidskin leather slippers were on her feet.

“We are wasting time,” sighed the other woman.

“Hush,” whispered Mara. “It’s bad enough as is.” She glanced at you with a slightly worried expression. “We want to help.” She gestured towards the purple skinned woman. “Amelie has a pregnancy test.” She wrapped her arm around your tense shoulders. “We thought that the first step would be to confirm that.” She unexpectedly hugged you. “Then we can begin planning.”

Amelie handed you a little cup with a tablet in it. “The human chorionic gonadtrophin proteins will cause a reaction—.”

“Amelie,” gently scolded Mara with a twinkle in her eye. “There is no need for a chemistry lesson—only to see what the situation is.” She nodded at the cup. “We will stay right here and no matter what the answer is, you will have friends to help.”

You glared at the cup and shuffled to the bathroom. Peeing into the cup was actually pretty hard when your hand was shaking this badly. You finally got just enough for the little tablet to begin to fizz but more on your hand. Annoyed, you washed your hands and brought the cup out.

Amelie was still standing there, watching without discernible interest or curiosity. Mara looked at you and the cup and sat there bravely smiling. The Widowmaker took the cup and peered at it against the light, dipping some kind of strips of paper in it to test their reactions.

Mara nodded at you again and led you back to the couch. “Well, I guess that answers that.” She looked for reassurance and Amelie just nodded. “So, let us talk about options.” She looked at you for a moment and then, with that glowing white and calming smile, she slid off the couch to your feet. Taking up one, she began rubbing it slowly and soothingly. You flinched at first. She looked up with a smirk. “Is something wrong?”

“It’s.... I’m.... Isn’t this wrong?” You burble out. “I mean....at my feet.”

“Does it not feel good?”

You turned absolutely crimson in embarrassment. Somehow the politically correct and forward thinking excuses that you were going to burble out—she was Akande’s omega after all else was said and done—failed and you could just nod.

Mara smiled again. “I know what you are thinking. This is somehow wrong or not correct or offensive.” She kneaded your foot again. “But, my mother was a midwife and she always rubbed the feet of new mothers to soothe them. She said it revived the spirits and nurtured the spirit of Ajalamo, but more importantly, it showed respect and reverence for Ala—the goddess of fertility, morality and justice.”

You gaped at her, unable to process what she was saying. Nonplussed, she continued to rub and soothe you. Whatever else might happen tonight—she knew her business when it came to massage.

The Widowmaker interrupted silkily. “The proteins show a positive pregnancy—and evidence of the SEP serum.”

“Ahh,” was all Mara said. “Very well. Thank you, Amelie. You may go.” The other woman left silently. She rolled her thumbs across your instep. “And now we may talk—omega to omega.” She tugged your feet a little further from the couch and pushed until you were lounging like a movie goddess. She brought you a creamy hot drink—not hot chocolate or coffee or tea but something sweet and milky and flavored with cardamom and cinnamon and some other spices, along with some crackers and some cheese slices. “It’s more relaxing for most women to speak in private.”

“What am I supposed to do?!” you wailed.

She smiled and took a pillow from the couch. Folding it almost in half, she spread her legs into a lunge almost like a runner’s and held the cushion up against her shoulder. “First...release.” You looked at her blankly. “Release the anger. Hit this.” You stood—far more shakily than you thought that you should—and smacked the pillow. “Again. Harder.”

You did—harder and harder as she cheered you on and bullied you to go harder and harder. Each time you did, you felt even angrier and hit harder. You could see that mask, hear that voice, and she held that couch cushion steady. Finally, you were completely out of breath and your red face was sweaty. Flopping down on the couch, you were honestly surprised both at Mara’s smiling face and how much better you felt. “H-h-how?! I hit that as hard as I can!”

She laughed merrily. “Akande and I do this all the time! It was the first thing he taught me after he claimed me.” She dropped the cushion on the floor and went back to rubbing your feet before moving up to your calves. “And now, you look like you feel better.”

“I do,” you smiled as you took a sip of the drink she had fixed. Blowing out a deep breath, you closed your eyes and wiped the stinging sweat from your face. So relaxed, you sucked in a breath. “Now what?”

“Oh, we talk,” she nodded. “You tell me what you are feeling and what you want to do in order to feel better.”

“I feel much better,” you admitted. “But I still don’t know what to do...about the baby.” Your voice cracked on the word ‘baby’ and you felt shame and anger and all kinds of frustration. It made things so much more complicated now that you knew you were pregnant.

“Ahh,” was all she replied. “And it stresses you that you now know for sure about the baby and whose baby it is.” She nodded as though she had the answer to a particularly troubling problem. “Would it change anything if it was your alpha’s?”

“Of course!”

“And so is the problem the baby—or the sire?”

You stared blankly at the ceiling, realizing that if it was Gabriel’s baby, you would be ecstatic. Suddenly, a wad of tension left you. If only it was Gabriel’s baby, you would be over the moon and dancing on air. You’d probably be levitating the whole base with your happiness.

And Gabriel would be the world’s best father. He would have no problem cuddling a baby or kissing boo-boos on a child’s knee. He wouldn’t care if the child was a boy or girl—although you suspected a boy would make him swagger with even more machismo. He would be protective and would spoil children rotten. The entire base would echo with his pride and joy.

You realized suddenly that Mara was speaking to you and you had missed everything she said. Flushing, you looked at her and burbled, “I’m sorry—what?”

She laughed and repeated herself. “I was telling you about working with my mother. She was a midwife and had training as a nurse. She did not completely finish because her school was blown up during the Omnic battles. We were lucky though—Akande’s family company brought in new equipment so that we could still communicate electronically. So my mother used it to finish the class work and to keep her certifications current.” She shrugged philosophically. “It worked out well that she claimed she didn’t know how to lock the workstation and all of the children would sneak to it at night to do lessons and read.” Mara shrugged again, standing up to sit beside you and take one of your hands in hers. “And my mother taught me well. She believed in providing all children education and bringing modern medical practices to every point on the globe. It was her dream that no child would be uneducated or have no access to medicine.”

You were nodding absently, shuddering at how well she was relaxing your muscles. Damn—if she were a man, Gabriel might have some competition. Probably not, but might. “I was curious about how you and Akande got together.”

“We were very lucky. He was on a corporate retreat, a safari, and his group went to my village for a rest stop. I went into heat that evening and tore off into the jungle. Of course, he bolted after me.” She shrugged with a wide grin. “We’ve been together ever since.”

“Oh,” you whispered.

“So, the massage is important—even if you do not believe in Nigerian gods and goddesses. It brings an increase in blood flow to your extremities, relieves soreness by reducing lactic acid in the muscles, and reduces swelling. If your hands have been bound for a long period of time, it is necessary to relieve the pain, but also to make sure that all of the smaller muscles receive care.” She smiled at you again, rotating your wrist. “But my mother appeased the very traditional elders by appealing to traditional beliefs as well as bringing modern medicine into practice.”

At last you were apparently relaxed enough for her, and she sat down beside you. Her face glowed with sweat. “Now...let us talk.” She grabbed a pair of glasses with iced water from the kitchen. “Is there any concern in your mind with Gabriel being a papa?”

“No!”

“Are you worried about being a mama?”

“Err...I guess,” you flush. “I am a little worried.” You were so relaxed, you had no problem talking to the other woman. “My mother was an omega too, but she miscarried several times.”

“Ahh. So you worry about losing a child?”

“Yes.” You felt a warm feeling in your chest. “I would be devastated if I lost Gabriel’s child.”

“And are you worried about losing this innocent child?”

Suddenly, you realized that...yes, you’d be devastated to lose this child. This child was so innocent, had no choice just like you had had no choice. You’d love this child—whether it was blonde or dark or light or purple or gray. Suddenly you could see Gabriel holding this child, rocking it to sleep. “I want this baby,” you whispered softly with your eyes snapping wide.

“Good,” Mara agreed.

“You wanted—expected that?!”

“No,” she shrugged. “It is more important that you have full control this decision. If you had decided that you wished to change the imprint, to void this litter, then I would have said ‘good’ then as well.” She smiled again. “And are you going to tell your alpha?”

“I gotta go,” you blurted. “I gotta get a hold of Gabriel.”

“Of course,” she nodded. “I am just down the hall if you need me. Gabriel knows how to reach me as well if you need anything.” She stood, putting the cushions back and taking the dishes to the kitchen with an efficient walk. “I will see myself out.”

You barely heard her as you fumbled with the communicator. “Gabriel—c’mon. Pick up.”

His voice echoed strangely on the encrypted channel. “Mi alma, que es?”

“Come home,” you sputtered. “I need you.” You heard his harsh intake of breath and a curse. “I’m fine and the baby is fine, but I want to talk to you.”

“Of course,” he responded. “I will be there.”

Less than 10 minutes later, he was striding into the apartment. His mask billowed smoke as he put his shotguns aside and reached for you. “What is it?”

“Baby. I-I-I want th-this baby,” you sputtered. “I want us to be a father. You to be a father. A-a family.” Finally your voice began working. “I want us to be a family.”

“Mi vida, slow down,” he smiled as he dropped the mask on the floor. “Slow down and I will understand you better.”

Your words were tumbling out like rolling rocks in an avalanche. “Mara came and sat with us. Me. She sat with me and Amelie came and there was SEP and we talked and Mara said it was about honoring Ala—.”

His dark eyes were a clay red—somewhere between the friendly dark brown you fell in love with and the dangerous red—and they brimmed with questions and confusion. “Mi alma, what are you saying?”

“I want this baby,” you gasped and smiled. “I want us to be a family.”

His face—despite the small holes that gaped in his cheeks and let out little tendrils of smoke—was alight with joy. He picked you up—it always got you off how easily he could pick you up and sling you around—and whirled you around in the air with a beautiful—mostly—smile on his face. “We are going to be a family, mamacita.”

It was like a dam broke that very instant. Brawny and macho Gabriel was suddenly giddy, laughter bubbling out as he swept you into his arms and set you down on the couch like you were a princess. “Mami...you will be even more beautiful. You are the most wonderful woman in the world.” He all but danced as he darted to the kitchen. You could hear his voice as he mumbled to himself. “You will want something to drink. Coffee? Too much for the baby. Tea? Why do we not have anything without caffeine? Maybe warm milk? Orange juice. Need to get orange juice. Why do we not have mint? Where is our cilantro? Our jengibre? Crackers—here they are.”

“Gabriel,” you called from your place on the couch. “Really...I’m fine.” There was a clatter from the kitchen and a cupboard slammed. “Maybe just some water.”

He came in beaming with a plate with crackers and cookies and a red box of raisins and a cup of grape juice and another cup of water. “Mamacita, I brought what I could find.” You giggled at the bounty that was set at your hands. “I will get us some supplies as soon as I can.”

Sitting down beside you, he grinned as you sipped the juice and nibbled a cracker. “So, what do you need?” He gripped your hand tightly. “We will get everything you need but—.”

“Gabriel, shhhhh,” you soothed. “I am fine. Little one—.”

“Juan? He—? It’s a boy?” His brow furrowed as his smile spread wider. “But how could you tell so soon?”

You sighed happily at his dithering. “I don’t know...but the thing is to stay calm.”

“Of course. Of course.”

“And, if it is okay with you, then I’m going to visit Mara regularly. She can teach me a lot.” He nodded eagerly. A sudden thought occurred to you and you frowned. Holding tightly to his hand, you asked seriously, “But what about your rut?”

He swallowed heavily and nodded, his joy dimmed somewhat. “I—Well, I’ll have to control that, won’t I?” His smile was suddenly somewhat forced. “Do not worry, little mother. We will weather it together. I will go out tonight, though, to make sure that I am...full.” Looking at you with worry, he asked, “But what about—you and I? Regular sex?”

“It shouldn’t hurt,” you said softly. “Betas do it all the time. But I’ll ask Mara.”

He smirked in macho delight. “I will ask Amelie and Sombra if there is something to suppress ruts. If they know of anything, I will take it tonight.” You looked up at him with a protest against unknown drugs. “It’s not like it could kill me, eh?” He shrugged. “I would guess that if there are suppressants for omegas, there’s probably something for alphas.”

“Apex alphas,” you wink saucily.

He smirked at that in pure macho delight. Looking at your joined hands, he went solemn for a moment. “Mamacita—are you sure? Even if it is not my pups?” He smiled at you. “I mean...you won’t be angry or upset that I am not the sire?”

“I love the baby or babies,” you whisper in return.

“I will be very careful,” he promised you, pressing a cautious kiss to your brow. “I will not let anything happen to little Juan.”

Didn’t that just figure? He already had a name and was sure it was a boy. It figured. You teased him, “What about Maria Margarita since there might be girl?”

“As long as you are the mother, I will adore all of them.” He smiled at you warmly. “I will have extra air purifiers placed here and in the storage unit so that my scent will not harm you. Tonight, I will leave again so that there is no chance that my hunger will consume the infants.”

And he left, vanishing like a breath of smoke. You sent him a text almost immediately, but he did not respond beyond a short one telling you he was fine. If there were screams in the night, you did not want to know it as you gently rubbed oil on your belly and talked to the pups.

When he returned, he looked almost completely human. Even...ruddy. There was an air of contentment and satiety that made him look peaceful even as he took his cigars outside—declaring that he needed a smoke but Juan didn’t—with a glass of tequila and a small glass vial that you never saw again.

For the next week, Gabriel was ridiculously overprotective. The air purifiers were installed. He brought in armloads of “necessary supplies”—crackers, orange juice, vitamins, books, mint tea, ginger tea, frozen yoghurt, Yerba Buena mints, fresh salads and more. He stayed with you, offering his arm and helping you to your feet, rubbing your feet and shoulders and back and reading every online maternity post you both could find.

The entire base knew of your pregnancy—mainly because Reaper shouted it from the rooftops. Sombra came in with a white noise machine she had “modified” to include more sounds, a better timer, and to interface with the communicator that your alpha insisted you keep with you at all times. Mara showed up at intervals to keep you company, watch movies with you, and answer questions. A few other omegas timidly scratched at your door—eager to see you in your maternal glory.

Unfortunately, almost immediate morning sickness brought you to your knees regularly. It worried Reaper half to death as he held your hair and your hand and wiped your brow as you spewed. He must have had the base medics in twenty times to check you over. If it hadn’t been for the mint tea and ginger tea, you would have been a hundred times worse, but at least those helped temporarily.

“Are you certain you are well, mi amor?” he asked for the hundredth time. “I will fetch the medics—.”

“No, Gabriel,” you respond when the retching let up and you can finally speak. “I am fine. It’s supposed to be a sign of a healthy pregnancy and Mara says that it will be better soon.”

His face screwed up into a frowning scowl. “I will....” He sighed heavily. “I will let you have the room tonight. I’ll sleep on the couch so that I am close.” You looked up at him, your pale face worried. “If there is any chance that my...scent is a danger to the baby, I will minimize it.”

“Oh honey,” you whispered. “I’m sure it’s just normal morning sickness.” You nuzzled his hand, hoping that the funk of your spew wasn’t still on your breath.

“But I could be a danger,” he insisted. “If not my scent, then...maybe me.” He sighed heavily. “I have been thinking this over. I exist in this half-life as a monster that drains the life from others.” His hands cradled your cheeks. “We will not lose this litter because of me.”

Tears filled your eyes. “Gabriel.”

He stood, helping you to your feet. “I need to leave tonight. I will take my fill during this mission and you will be relieved of my scent.” He fiddled in his pocket and pulled out a communicator to press into your hand. “You know that no matter what, you can summon me in an instant.”

You blinked in confusion. You hadn’t known that there was a mission tonight. Squelching the uncomfortable feeling in your tummy, you nodded. “I will, my alpha.”

His laughter rumbled out. He settled you on the couch again. Always prepared, he was no sooner gone than Mara appeared at his call with a rice bag to heat up for the small pain in your back and a new movie and some red carnations from him. You both walked to the empty running track where you walked slowly around, chatting about nothing. For a moment, you were worried about other alphas until she pointed to a catwalk above you both. Fifty feet above the cement floor was a series of catwalks and platforms and you saw the dark silhouette of Akande watching over you both.

You felt peculiarly safe and very protected. Even in a base teaming with alphas, your alpha was arranging things for your safety and health and well-being. You patted your stomach meaningfully, ignoring the knowing smile from Mara. Gabriel would be a good father.

The second shift—the guards and patrols and analysts—were moving into their places when Mara (and more distantly Akande who was never closer than fifty feet from you and so ended up standing outside the apartment) left you in your quarters. You locked the door securely behind them, relieved at their reassurances that guards would be posted at the ends of the hallways as they walked through.

Settling down with a random magazine and a cup of tea, you lounged in the bed, hoping that Gabriel was well. As if you summoned him like a witch summoning a wraith, the communicator in your pocket vibrated. The little screen lit up and you smiled—it was so like Gabriel to take the time to text you in the middle of a mission.

But it wasn’t Gabriel’s message. In fact, this wasn’t even your communicator—it was his. They must have gotten mixed up or something, but you couldn’t resist looking at the message anyway.

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: Hey Gabe! What about that sweet little omega? She doing good with my pups?”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: You know that I could have taken her with me, right? Maybe I will next time since you never could do anything right. Even the basics like taking care of your bitch.”

You kept reading, paging through the history:

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: What a hot little omega. I could have snapped her up in a minute. You don’t mind sharing do you? Maybe I can come over regularly and keep her full of pups.”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: I bet you’re gonna force her to give them up, aren’t you, you sick, sadistic bastard? What kind of alpha would force a sweet omega like her to abort her pups?”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: I planted knot deep in her. She was so tight—are you sure you’re fucking her right?”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: She screamed for me—came for me so many times. I’d guess you aren’t doing it for her. Tiny wood much?”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: By this point she’s probably able to confirm the pregnancy. Poor Gabe. Now you see what a real man can do.”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: It’s a shame that you couldn’t do it. She deserves so much better than you for being such a good omega. You should share her around—let her see what she’s missing.”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: Can you imagine her pushing out a pup with my eyes and hair? She’s nice looking—we’ll have beautiful pups. Too bad you are an asshole that can’t breed.”

You stopped reading. Even the profane alias—and the even more profane contact photos of a pile of what appeared to be excrement with blue cake sprinkles on it—Gabriel assigned to the contact failed to make you smile. There were pages and pages of taunts and texts—most of them around the end of first watch when most people would be settling down to dinner. And based on the dates and times, a whole hell of a lot were sent after he assaulted you.

Gabriel must be going mad with this constant barrage. You frowned, debating sending a snarky message back. Sighing, you paged idly through the history, pausing when you saw one little message in the opposite color.

“You say: Hey Jack. Got your message. Keeping the little gift you left for us. Thanks.”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: Just a sick fuck for punishment, aren’t you? Can’t wait to see my pups. Send me pics, okay? Maybe next time I’ll stop and pick them up.”

“Jack76IsAnAsshole says: And maybe I’ll take that cute omega with me.”

You fled to the bathroom, emptying your stomach and dropping the communicator with a clatter. Just for that Jack76IsAnAsshole, you’re gonna keep this kid and he (or she) would be the healthiest kid in the world. You’ll even go with Mara and see if you can learn to be strong and fight and if that man ever showed his ugly face, you’d punch it in yourself.

Two days later, Gabriel showed up. He looked almost completely human except for a certain pallor to his skin, his eyes a warm chocolate and there was no trace of decay or smoke. He kissed you softly—a mere breath of a flower petal on your skin. And, of course, he brought “little Juan” a small toy and a toy drum.

“Good mission?” was what you meant to ask.

“76 is really an asshole,” is what came out.

He looked at you in shock. “Pardone mi?”

“He really is an asshole.”

Gabriel’s eyes were saucers until you brought out the communicator with the latest series of taunts on the screen. “Well, shit.” He sighed and glanced at the text before turning it off. “I...mi alma, I never meant for you to see those.”

You were stiff, almost shaking. “We’re gonna have this kid and he—or she, Gabriel!—is going to be just fine. And we’re going to be an amazing family.”

He was stiff and shocked as you muttered angrily. Growling, you began stalking around, rearranging pillows and taking out ingredients from the fridge and pantry for a hearty chili con carne. “Mi alma...,” he gently began only to flinch as you growled at the communicator in a fluster of rapid and profane curses.

He was peculiarly silent as you fixed and laid out chili con carne—your special recipe with jalapeños and chorizo sausage and corn—and some chips on the tiny table. He did not need to eat—not really—but he did occasionally take a bite or two in order to keep you company. And, even if he couldn’t taste it or really smell it, it was a comfort to him for you to fix food that was alive with the colors and flavors of his earliest home.

You slammed your spoon down on the table and plopped in your seat, still cursing. It wasn’t until you literally attacked your chili and your spoon split the bowl, spilling chili everywhere, that the stillness shattered and Reaper’s laughter filled the room.

“Carino, you will need to calm down.” He stirred his little bowl with his spoon. “Jackie ain’t worth wasting your chili con carne on.”

“He’s a piece of shit.” You looked up at him and the easy, amused grin on his face. “Don’t you dare laugh at me, Gabriel!”

“I am laughing at the fury of a wonderful mamacita,” he replied. “Now, let me get you a new bowl.” He shrugged a little as he got up. “If you like, I won’t kill him until you get a lick or two in?”

You nodded sullenly. Gabriel brought you a new bowl of chili and set it down gingerly in front of you. “He’s an asshole.”

You stirred the heavy chili around restlessly, suddenly not as hungry as you thought. He sat down, smiling over his steaming bowl and poking at the tortilla chips. “What the hell was he thinking anyway?” you burst out.

He looked up at you wearily. “Jackie?” He swallowed nervously. “Are you sure that you want to talk about it?” At your angry nod, he glanced down at his bowl. “I didn’t want to bring it up—although I guess I should have before now, eh?”

“Yes,” you snapped, breaking the chips into your bowl angrily. “I’m so mad and...and.... I cannot believe it.” You were shaking, about to knock over the bowl, and glared at him until he was amazed that there was no smoke coming out of your ears. “What the hell was he thinking?!”

Gabriel nodded, pushing aside his bowl. “Jackie and I go way back. He and I have been aplausos—rivals. At first it was friendly enough I guess. But whenever I’d get ahead, he’d have to do me one better. If I got a girlfriend, he went after her—and her best friend. When I finally got a car, he went and got a better one. He never even wanted to be a commander until I got close to being one.”

“He’s an asshole,” you repeated taking a big bite of your chili.

“Si,” he agreed with a strained smile. “But a highly successful one, if you count commanding Overwatch.” He gestured slightly. “It is like the comics or video games, isn’t it? That we had been friends—amigos—and now are enemies?”

At your unamused grunt, he continued. “I never meant for you to be left alone during your heat. When he came around, he saw my most prized delight and wanted it for himself. Wanted me to know that he had been here.”

“Mucho sadistic.”

“I know. In a way, it doesn’t matter to him if you have the pups or not. He’s not into family himself—doesn’t want to be tied down with pups and have to take care of them.” He cocked an eyebrow. “Mercy and the others—Winston and Reinhardt especially—would force him to stay behind and provide for his omega and pups if he had them. And, there’s no glory in being an old dad on base, eh? No awards and no acclaim.”

“He cannot be in the field and providing protection for a family. So, he doesn’t want them.” Gabriel shrugged. “He’s seen too many family and friends die to want to start it up again.” He took a rare bite and swallowed it, more to prompt you to eat than to take nourishment himself. “But he couldn’t resist trying to hit me where it hurts—especially since I cannot father your pups.” He dropped his spoon and his fists clenched. “So I’m supposed to clean up his mess. Again.”

You flinched, feeling suddenly ill. “Is that what this is?”

He looked at you blankly for a moment, and then had the grace to flush. “No, carino. You are still the best thing that has ever happened to me.” He went to his ghostly wraith form and stood, going through the table to stand before you half above and half below the table. His hand scooped up the cup and he spooned a bite of chili to your mouth. “But, this will strike him to the quick—that I will have a happy family.” His mouth cocked in a half smile. “Do you suppose that he will want to be a family man then? It would make my job a lot easier.” He dropped a kiss to the top of your head. “Talon would give me a huge bonus if he was off the field—and Juan could go to college.”

You shook your head at his silliness. “You are ridiculous.” You shuddered. “If you had not had Akande and the others watching over me, I’d be scared.” Looking up at him with terror on your face, you whispered. “Actually, I am scared. I can’t sleep without thinking that he’s going to show up and take my babies away.”

The wraith disappeared from in front of you and a cool touch slid past you. Behind you now, his hands came to gently rub your shoulders. “He won’t get past us again.”

“But what if he does? What am I to do?”

His chuckle was deep and hollow. “Kick his ass, cara.” At your watery giggle, he smiled and gently stroked you. “And I will show you how.”

So the next month went by—Gabriel and you happy with the continual soft changes in you as the baby grew. Mara was an invaluable resource—and even though Akande wouldn’t let her visit when Gabriel was around you and she managed to arrange several outings to walk and talk or watch movies or look at baby things.

Gabriel was especially careful to do whatever it was he did to stay together—volunteering once or twice for missions in order to top off his energy reserves. He did insist on sleeping on the couch—allowing you the large bed and, as he put it, “protecting you and Juan from his scent”. He also had the medics on speed dial on every communicator he could get his hands on—even the skanky one in the repaired storage locker.

Peculiarly, he never spoke to you about the messages from “Jack76IsAnAsshole”. Oh, it was obvious that he still got them regularly because he’d look at the screen, frown and sigh heavily before putting the communicator away. But he didn’t talk about them—he didn’t show them to you.

And you were glad he didn’t. The thought of that asshole sending him those messages was enough to make you steam. You needed to stay calm for the baby. You also probably needed to stay calm for Gabriel, who would get wound up tighter and tighter every time that a new message arrived with a chime.

To relieve the pressure, Gabriel took you out to the shooting range regularly. He brought you a tiny pistol with a mother-of-pearl handle that shot tiny .22 bullets. Even though it was minimal recoil, your wrists ached from practice and it was hard enough to hit the targets without shaking with rage or bursting into tears. Gabriel noticed—of course he noticed—and was extra patient when you broke down between reloads. But, he was also a perfectionist and unrelenting in his encouragement that you learn to fire your weapon as well as he fired his.

You were shaking and reloading—fumbling the little bullets as they spilled from the cardboard box—as he began taping up another target. “Gabe—the hell am I going to do?”

“Que es?” he asked over his shoulder.

You carefully laid the pistol down on the shelf and closed your eyes in abject despair. “I can’t hit shit.” Wiping the tears from your cheeks, you slammed your elbow on the shelf and buried your face into your palm. “I can’t do it.”

Gabriel tossed the tape beside your arm and hit the button to send the target whizzing down the range. The range lights were off and the target disappeared as he put his large hands on your shoulders. Rubbing the sore muscles gently, he kissed the top of your head. “I know that it’s hard, carino, but I know that you can do it.”

“I’m...just so scared,” you whimpered.

“I know,” he murmured. “It was terrible what you went through.” His hands kept massaging you. “And you are being very brave about it.”

You laughed bitterly. “I am hardly brave. But the pups—.”

“Yes, carino, the pups.” He sighed again. “Now...let’s try again.”

With a sigh, you picked up the pistol again and began sliding bullets into it. “Loaded,” you said blankly, setting it down again.

“Safety first,” he murmured. “Eyes and ears on?” You nodded—you had your eye and ear protection on. The heavy plastic glasses hung on your face and the soft, foam earplugs protected your ears. “Eyes down range.”

You smirked—you already were facing down range—but Gabriel went relentlessly through his checklist of steps every time you picked up the pistol. You could practically recite it in your sleep. “Signal down range,” you muttered, flipping the switch beside you.

A series of red LED lights outlined the lane of the range and a loud buzzer sounded. A computerized voice helpfully called out, “Firing on lane six. All personnel advised—firing on lane six in ten. Nine.” You took in a shaky breath as the computer counted down. “Firing on lane six in three. Two. One.”

Another buzzer sounded and your target—only about fifty feet away—was lit up. You picked up the pistol and raised it to begin sighting on the target and then just about dropped the weapon again.

The target was a blown up picture of Soldier: 76 with the small additions of devil horns, a rather strange looking goatee, and a forked tongue drawn in black marker. Red circles were drawn over the throat, the eyes and the nose, showing the targets you wanted to hit. You couldn’t resist laughing at the picture.

“I thought it would help you focus,” Gabriel said innocently, looking at the target. “Maybe, give you inspiration.” You laughed darkly, steadying your arms and hands. “Now, just like I showed you.”

You fired, clipping the photo’s hair. Cursing, you adjusted your stance and tried again. Taking a really deep breath—and trying to stop laughing—you fired five more times. Grinning in satisfaction, you managed to hit right around both eyes and once up the nose.

“Four out of six shots,” Gabriel mused. “Not bad.”

You carefully opened up the tumbler and dumped your brass casings in the waste bin. Putting down the weapon with the barrel pointed down range, you took in another deep breath as Gabriel brought the target forward. Overjoyed, you watched as he took the thing down and presented it to you with a smile.

“See, carino?” He shot you a macho grin. “You only needed inspiration.”

 


	3. Chapter 3

Things had been going so well for another month. Mara came by regularly, along with short visits from the other omegas. Gabriel continued to spoil you rotten—fixing you healthy meals and finding little treats for you, making sure you took plenty of naps and taking you out to the tracks or around the base to walk—as well as taking you out shooting regularly. You were glowing and finally had the thick long nails and thick hair that you had coveted.

Yes, things had been going so well.

Gabriel had been called away on a mission, along with Widowmaker and Akande. You were sure that the base medics would confirm that you were well on your way to a healthy pregnancy and would advise you to find a local doctor to handle the birth. So, you sent him on his way with a smile and a promise to message him with the medical report. You also promised to take Mara with you as he dithered about you walking all fifty yards (you measured it) to the medical offices.

The night had passed peacefully as Mara and another omega sat down with a new fantasy movie in your living room, passing around snacks and the infinite small bottles of water that were sprouting like daisies around the apartment because Gabe had determined that you needed lots of water and were dehydrated. When the new omega left for the night, Mara simply shrugged and stretched out for the next part of the movie.

Your stomach rumbled uncertainly. “Ugh...must have had too much popcorn,” you muttered, shifting uncomfortably.

Mara hummed a bit, watching as the delicious male star slid on a ridiculous tight shirt. Glancing over at you, she cocked her head curiously. “Just a stomach ache?”

You nodded uncertainly, petting the little lump in your belly. When Mara kept staring at you curiously, you looked at her and asked, “Why?”

“You appear flushed,” she explained. “Do you feel all right?”

Come to think of it, you did feel a little warm. The water had been a blessing all night, and you had taken your own sweet time during restroom breaks to run some cold water across your hands and splash your face. You swallowed, feeling a slightly sore throat coming on. “Maybe I’ll hit the restroom,” you whispered. “Splash some water on my face.”

Mara nodded and glanced back at the screen. “I’ll see if there is any more ice cream.”

You stood, feeling suddenly a bit woozy and went to the restroom. You leaned against the counter—feeling nauseous and like your stomach was going to pop—when you heard Mara’s shocked gasp and hurried footsteps. She burst in on you and grabbed your arm before putting a cool hand on your forehead.

“Come...we must hurry,” she burbled. You looked at her blankly and were shocked to see how pale she had become. “We must go to the medics.”

You were confused, wondering at her sudden change of attitude as she slung some water bottles and a box of granola into her bag and then wrapped you up in a blanket. She led you through the apartment and you reached for the communicator on the chair—and then you stopped.

There was a small amount of blood on the chair cushion.

The world whipped into a haze as she led you through to the medics. They led you to the first emergency bed and propped you up, shooting questions at you like a machine gun. Mara kept rubbing your hands and wrists—which was vaguely soothing—and answering what she could for you. Which was a good thing, because your head was spinning and the world was rapidly going fuzzy as hot tears slid down your cheeks.

Nurses came and went, poking you and carefully taping needles in your arms so that the IVs could deliver medicine and vitamins and water. The medicine hit quickly, sending your whole body into shivers and then into a feverish feeling malaise. Mara stayed beside you, talking about nothing and feeding you ice chips and water and trying to translate the incomprehensible medical lingo. You didn’t understand most of it—and for the most part you didn’t understand Mara’s translation either as the medication wrapped your brain around a lemon slice and squeezed it.

Gabriel’s desperate calls on the communicator were your anchor as he tried to reach you. There was nothing much that either of you could do—you were in for a lengthy stay of bedrest no matter if he was here or not. He promised to return as quickly as he could, encouraging you to keep sending him texts and to call him regularly, even if he didn’t answer. Mara agreed with him and even offered to send him messages herself as more news come through. The first nights would have been terrifying if you had actually been awake and alert through the evening and the repeated blood draws for tests, but at it was, you were only vaguely aware of what was going on.

Gabriel burst in a day or two or three (you weren’t sure) later, still shrugging into a clean shirt and wearing sweatpants and his signature black boots as he made his way to the bed. Bewildered by the endless coils of medical errata, he took your hands gingerly and kissed your knuckles. “Carino, are you.... What happened?”

Mara gave him a sympathetic smile. “She may not be entirely with us. The medications can cause lethargy and malaise. It’s been a long few days.”

He looked at her as though she were an alien and then back at you. Desperately, he mumbled prayers in broken Spanish against your hand. You squeezed his hand and tried to smile at him, feeling even more fuzzy. “You’re back.”

“Yes,” he sighed, a stiff smile on his lips. “I came as soon as I could.” He drug the itchy hospital blanket around your chest. “And here I am, right next to you.”

“I didn’t want this,” you muttered softly.

“I know.”

“I did everything right,” you whimpered. “I really did.”

“I know.” He rubbed his eyes restlessly. “I know that you did everything. Everything right.”

Mara touched his shoulder gently. “I must be going soon, but I thought that you might want to talk to me before I left.”

Gabriel shot her a ghost of a grin. “Akande doesn’t—.”

“Oh, he knows that I’m here with her,” she reassured with a smile. “But, no, he isn’t fond of me lingering around other alphas.” She chuckled and shrugged. “It’s only because we are in the medical building that he’s not here already to fetch me.”

He looked at you and you blearily shrugged. “I’m going to talk to her and then be right back. I am going to be right outside the door.” You nodded dizzily. “Take a nap and I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You nodded, watching with half an eye as he stood and walked literally to the doorway to talk with the dark skinned woman. It was terribly easy to slip into a dozing nap as they talked quietly, barely moving. Gabriel nodded slightly, his shoulders drooping as she gave him the latest news. The next thing you knew, he was right beside you, holding your hand and praying again. You closed your eyes wearily.

At some point, you were aware of Gabriel’s soft snores. Looking to one side, you reached out and petted the sleeping head beside you on the bed. He jerked awake and smiled at you, rubbing the stubble on his chin. “Carino,” he rumbled. “You are awake.”

You nodded stiffly. “I guess.”

He smiled and patted your shoulder. “You gave me a scare.”

“Sorry, I’m sure.”

He laughed at your weary sarcasm. “Mara told me what happened. Said you would be in here for a while until the doctors got you stable.”

“How long will that be?”

He shrugged. “This last round of tests will help. They drew some blood about two hours ago.” He brought a cup of water to your parched throat. “They are also going to do a sonogram to confirm what’s going on.”

The techs came in with a cart and poked and prodded at your stomach as Gabriel growled at them. There was a ream of printouts that the various people in white coats pored over. Finally, one of them glanced over at the hulking alpha and sighed as the others shoved him towards you both.

“Uhh...sir,” the doctor squeaked out. “Is it a good time to talk to you?”

Gabriel’s mouth curled into a snarl. “What is it?”

“Uhh...well.... Uh, sir, um, I have some bad news.” He turned pale as he looked up...and up...to Gabriel’s frown. “Um...I hate to have to tell you this—believe me. But....”

A tiny tendril of smoke curled off of Gabriel’s beard. The doctor watched it, mesmerized, and seemed to be about to pass out before Gabriel rumbled, “Out with it.”

“Well...the pups,” he whispered fearfully. “I hate to tell you this...but....we kind of...lost one.” You flinched, looking away as Gabriel gripped your hand tightly. “The other two....well—.”

“What is it, estupido?” Gabriel snapped.

“W-w-we’re not sure,” he stammered. “The.... Mara told us.... The SEP.” He flinched and took a deep breath. “The SEP is causing...complications with the—.” Gabriel raised his hand and the man flinched, dropping the papers in his hands. “There is a high probability that..the litt—all of them may....”

Gabriel sighed, gripping you like a drowning man holding a float. He collapsed into the chair beside the bed. “What can be done?”

The doctor whimpered. “I-I-I ... The only thing we can recommend is bedrest here and try to keep the family as quiet as possible.” He added hopefully. “There...are two left.”

So Gabriel nodded and kept you company with silly stories, card games, and crossword puzzles. It was a timeless, endless parade of hours punctuated by tests and doctors wandering in and out. A few people—mostly other omegas—sent cards and flowers. One sent a small stuffed dog. Akande and Mara sent along a box of oatmeal cookies and a small stuffed tiger.

You actually began to relax, to think that maybe you could hold on and the two babies might be fine. The doctors were still concerned, but it didn’t seem to be more tense than it was before. Gabriel stayed close, keeping you going simply by being nearby. The medicines still knocked you out, but it was tolerable knowing that he was nearby.

You awoke—it was hard to tell when exactly it was, but you thought it was a Thursday—and heard Gabriel’s voice in the hall, along with a doctor. You debated calling out to him, but decided to listen instead when you heard the raspy catch in his voice.

“What else can be done?” he demanded.

This doctor was smaller, thinner—and knew it as he twitched and flinched at the larger man. “We’ve simply never seen this before. We have no idea the effects of the serum on the...the fetuses—.”

“Children,” corrected Gabriel, icily. “They are children.”

The doctor nodded jerkily, plainly sweating. “O-of course. The children.” He wiped his forehead nervously. “We don’t know how the SEP affects children. We don’t have any idea—.”

“Then what do you need?”

The doctor swallowed nervously again. “Please...please understand, uh, sir. This is a multiple pregnancy in the first place—that’s highly risky. Triplets have an incredibly low chance of survival. It is already almost a certainty that if the two...children are delivered, they will be in the NICU.” He swallowed again. “They may...they may not make it.”

Gabriel growled and folded his massive arms over his chest. “And how do we make them stronger? How do we fix this?!”

“We...we don’t know,” the doctor admitted. “None of us has even dealt with SEP before. We’ve read the articles, of course, but that’s not the same as having samples—!”

“Then I’ll get your samples,” Gabriel snapped. “I’ll be back later tonight.” The doctor relaxed as he turned away, but tensed as he glanced over his shoulder. “Don’t lose her or the children.”

“O-o-of course! We’ll post a nurse with her!”

Gabriel stalked in and saw you watching him. Flushing, he muttered, “I guess...you heard all that?”

You nodded and whispered softly, “Gabriel...what’s going to happen?”

He smiled weakly at you. “The doctors...they need—.”

“Samples,” you whispered. “Of the SEP.”

“I’ll get them the samples,” he said. “A nurse will be in here with you the entire time that I’m gone.” He caressed your face gently. “I’ll be gone tonight, but I’ll be back in time for breakfast.”

“Breakfast?” You frowned in confusion. “What time is it?”

“It’s 7:49 in the evening,” he whispered. “All you have to do is keep still.” He took his communicator out and cocked his head. “I’ll ask Akande to let Mara come and keep you company, if you like?”

You shrugged a little. “Maybe....”

“Don’t worry,” he smiled. “The little ones are going to be fine.”

“Really?” You looked up at him and smiled. “Really—are they?” He kept smiling, but didn’t answer. “I...he said they would be in the NICU?”

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered. “On the positive note, they have determined that we have little Juan and Mary Margarita Rosalina.” At your face, he smirked. “The blood tests have been very thorough while you’ve been here.”

Your face was alight. “Two little babies....”

“Si,” he agreed. “Just think—we’ll have two.”

“If they live,” you muttered glumly.

“We are going to do our best.” He smirked again. “But first, I need to run out.” He leaned over and kissed your forehead. “I’ll be back soon.” He cocked his head. “So do you want me tell anyone?”

You looked at him in confusion and shrugged. “The entire base knows I’m here.”

He nodded, and shrugged. “If you want me to tell anyone else—and I mean, anyone—then I will.” He waved and turned to leave. “I’ll be back before breakfast.”

The nurse fluttered in after he was gone. She did manage to help you get your hair clean and she rubbed your legs and feet, but it was like the light in the room left when Gabriel did. You were actually glad to get some sleep, praying for Gabriel’s safe return.

Breakfast came at it’s normal time—a lovely tray of clear liquids consisting of chicken broth, apple juice and jello. The nurses changed with the new shift, and the new nurse began chirping happily about her children at home as she watched the monitors nervously. You mainly grunted in return, unamused by her descriptions of holiday antics and problems for sitting for portraits.

You managed to work through a crossword puzzle before you heard Gabriel coming. Nurses and doctors started running around, shouting. The pleasant nurse dropped the pencil and crossword puzzle book before running to the door. You twitched nervously, trying to figure out why everyone was screaming.

The noise got louder and louder, the crowd pressing back as the Reaper—not Gabriel, but the fully fledged, black smoking Reaper—pressed forward, clutching his shoulder with his shotguns under his arms. Nurses shouted and began bringing supplies as the doctors kept whirling around. The shotguns bounced precariously as the muscular arms shifted and brought out a bundle wrapped in bloodstained fabric and shoved it at the nearest white coated figure.

Everyone went silent for a moment, staring as the doctor unwrapped the bundle nervously. Three glass vials clinked in his hand for as a pregnant pause grew longer. The small doctor glanced up at the large man and then nodded. “Okay, people. Let’s analyze this.”

The crowd dispersed instantly with more shouts and hurrying about. Reaper sagged as everyone ran around, dodging him nervously. With a heavy sigh, he limped inside your room. The white mask nodded vaguely as he unloaded the shotguns—the shells clattering into a bubblegum pink bedpan—and then dropped the heavy weapons on a tray before coming to your bedside holding his shoulder.

His voice was metallic and rasped, “Are you still okay?” The mask shifted around nervously. “How are the children?”

“They—they are fine,” you whispered. “Just bored.”

He laughed shortly and then groaned, pressing his shoulder. Smoke puffed out as he lurched to the chair. “I would rather you be bored than to lose any of you.”

“Are you okay?” You glanced at him as he rubbed his shoulder.

“I got clipped,” he snorted. “Someone got lucky.”

“Oh fuck,” you whimpered. You fumbled and drug out the call button remote. “You need help.”

He shook his head slightly. “I’ll be fine. I’ll have to go out—maybe head to town and....” He shrugged. “That will make sure that I’m fine.” He cocked his head. “I’ll fill up and be back.”

“So...what happened?”

“I texted...him,” he panted. “I agreed to meet him—.”

You kicked wildly and growled at him. “You did what?!” Snatching up the pillow, you tossed it. The pillow bounced off his bowed head. “What the hell?!”

He sighed wearily. “I texted Jack.” He shrugged painfully. “I told him that I would meet him for a few minutes. Told him that his team would be safe.”

“I can’t believe that you went to that jerk.” You huffed angrily. “What happened?”

He growled low. “I told him that you needed to have a sample of his blood. That we needed to have just a sample for the doctors to analyze so that the ninos would be safe.” His hands curled into fists and his voice dropped to a shivery depth. “As soon as I came out, he had his pulse rifle ready. Told me that he was going to bring me in.” He laughed shortly. “I told him that I just needed a little blood.”

“That jerk,” you cursed softly.

“He laughed. Told me that I could take it out of his ass.” He shrugged painfully. “So, I shot him.”

“No!” You gasped nervously. “What the hell happened?”

“His team came out.”

“What the hell? You could have died!”

“But I’m already dead,” he whispered wryly. “But Mara convinced Akande to follow me.” His voice shook a little. “So, at least it was a fair fight.” His head tilted a little. “Akande got him down on the pavement and we got the blood.” He chuffed out a breath and shrugged. “And we did get it out of his ass.”

“What else happened?” you asked suspiciously. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“Nothing important,” he whispered. “We got what we needed.”

You pouted a little at him as he weakly tossed the pillow back on the bed. “But I want you—.”

“Not right now,” he panted. “I am too low.” His masked face cocked up at you. “I know that you want me here, but I need to just...grab a quick pick me up.”

You looked at him. His cheeks had gaping and smoking holes that looked rotten. His teeth looked sharp and the gums were pulled back and were pale. His tongue looked almost forked or pointed and had small black spots on it like a chow’s. Black smoke kept billowing around, creepily enough it billowed against the air puffing out of the vents—even out of his gloves. His eyes were so blood red that they seemed to glow against the black rot of his face.

“Err.... OK.” You offered him a smile. “I’m going to ask the nurse for some stuff anyway.”

He turned to mist before your dizzy eyes and flew out through the hallways. The nurse returned when you buzzed. You spoke dizzily to her and she grinned, agreeing to pass on the message to Mara.

A few hours later, Mara came in with huge bags and a slightly disgruntled smile on her face. “You know that Akande was a little upset that I was sent out shopping?”

You gulped. “I’m sorry.” You stared at the ceiling with tears in your eyes. “I just thought it would...help....”

She came over and patted your hand. “It’s all right. He’s a bit on edge anyway. He’s worried when his heavy gun is kind of AWOL.” She cocked her head. “I think that he actually cares about the team, but can’t afford to show it.”

She drug out the items that you asked for—a radio, a few discs that held nursery rhymes and audio recordings of children’s books, and a handheld game system. The radio could play music—a merry Spanish station for him and a pop station for you—and the discs. The room felt better—warmer and more light—now that there was familiar and welcoming sounds. 

Mara smiled and brought out a new, wrapped box. She smiled as you unwrapped it and found a small recorder. “I.... I know that it’s hard. I know how hard it is when you don’t know if he’s going to come back. So, when he’s around, having him do some recordings of his own so that you can play them.”

She was going to say something. Actually you were going to say something—but her communicator buzzed. She took it out and flipped through it. Looking at you, she shrugged, “I’m sorry—but Akande.... His rut hit.”

You smiled at her. “Then you should go, before he tears the place apart.” You fiddled with the radio and found a surprising oldies station that played a song you hadn’t heard in years. “I’m going to be here with the kids. Besides, Gabriel will be back soon.”

She sighed and nodded. “I will be back when I can.”

The next morning, Gabriel reappeared in what appeared to be in better health. He strolled in behind the nurse with your lovely breakfast—broth, juice and jello. “Carino, are you feeling well?” He cocked his head at the heavy guitar riff and drumming from the radio. “It sounds like a fiesta in here.”

“You’ve made it back,” you smiled wearily. “What better reason is there?”

He smiled and put one large hand on your belly. “This is the better reason. Two of them.” He pressed a kiss your baby bump. Abruptly, there was a fluttering lump as one of them kicked. “They are strong.”

“Ugh!” You shifted slightly. “They have kicked me half to death already.” You stuck your tongue out at the tray. “I don’t see how since we’ve been on clear liquids. They suck.”

He laughed lowly. “Of course they do. It’s to stop people from wanting to stay here.” He stared at the myriad of tubes and IVs. “But we need to be strong for the children.”

“Hey, Gabe.” You pulled out the recorder. “Maybe...could you please...well—.”

“What is it?”

“I want you to make a recording. For the babies.”

“Que?” He studied the recorder as if he hadn’t ever seen one before. “But what should I say?”

You shrugged in the hospital bed. “Uh.... I don’t know. What kind of stories did your family tell? What songs did you hear?”

He laughed. “I don’t suppose that you’ll be patient enough for me to message Mara for my guitar?”

“Uhh.... Mara’s kind of busy. Akande is in a rut.”

“Poor him.” He smiled. “Well, I can try, but don’t blame me if it sounds like a drunkard’s howl.” Snapping on the recorder, he began singing, “Los pollitos dicen. Pio, pio, pio. Cuando tienen hambre....”

His voice was so deep. So soothing. He grazed his fingers along your belly as his voice deepened. You couldn’t help but smile as he kept singing.

The songs were fun, even when he had to repeat them because of nurses bustling in or beeping from the monitors. Then he took a few of the juices from the nurses and sat down beside the bed with the recorder.

“That is enough of me singing,” he smiled. “But I would like, just for the kids, talk about my family.”

“You don’t talk about them much.”

“Well, Mama and Papa Reyes—they were from Dorado. Your abuela was Rosalinda and everyone loved her.” He flushed. “Your abuela made the best churros and papusas and empanadas. She actually could cook anything—tamales, burritos, desserts—but she loved making churros because Papa loved them. She could do everything except for meatloaf—which always came out like a brick.” He sat back with a smile. “Papa Reyes was Elias Jacob. He could fix anything. The first time I had a bicycle, your abuelo took me to the garage and took out all of his tools and made me put it together.”

It was sad and funny and warm to listen to him talk about where he grew up, what he did as a kid. He was disarmingly honest about how much he loved his family, how much he moved around, his school—just about everything. 

He smiled at you as he finished. “Abuelo had me take the money from my paper route and made me put it into a savings account. I told him that I earned my money and I wanted to go spend it. I wanted to get Mama a new oven and Papa laughed and said that my paper route money was not enough to do that, but it would help me get started when I became a man.”

He clicked off the recorder and looked up at you with mournfully puppy dog dark eyes. “I spent that money anyway—got Mama a microwave. She was so pleased and embarrassed and Papa was going to scold me, but she said that it was fine.” He closed his eyes and his hands curled into fists as head bent down. “Papa...he wanted me to go to save my money so that I could at least hope.”

“Hope?”

“Papa wanted me to go to school. He told me to work hard, to save my money—even the few dollars from the paper route—and that he wanted me to stay in school. He told me every day that I needed to stay in school—to go to universidad. Every day he told me that he wanted me to be the first Reyes to go to college and that I was going to make something more of myself than to be a maintenance man.

“Papa worked hard every day. Every morning, he would go and take the lunch Mama fixed and went to work fixing the apartments. He would come back with change—pennies and nickels from the ground or whatever—and every penny would go into this olive jar. Once a month he would take that olive jar and count it all and deposited it into an account he had opened for me. And every night he would tell me that I would be the first Reyes to go to college.”

“Our children will go to college,” you whispered. “But you will be the first Reyes to go to college.” You reached for his creaking leather gauntleted fists. “No matter what—we will have you go to college.”

He smirked sadly, finally looking at you. “What would I study? How to kill people?” You puffed out a breath. “No...I am not college material. But Juan and Mary—they will be the first Reyeses to go to college. They will not be like me. They will go study and be doctors or lawyers or something important. Something that they can hold their heads up and be proud of.”

“Gabriel,” you whispered. “Do you have any pictures of Rosalinda and Elias?”

He shot you a look. “I have a few in an album. Most of the pictures on my ofrenda were blown to hell in the Swiss base.” He shrugged a little sheepishly. “I wasn’t sure how you would feel—the pictures are a bit torn and singed—but I kept the album.”

“Why don’t we have an ofrenda of our own? And celebrate the Day of the Dead and everything?”

“We will need some pictures of your family too, mi alma.”

“I think we can get those. I have a picture of them when they got married. I also have a portrait of my grandparents on my mother’s side.”

“We’ll get started with that.”

It was unsurprising when two glass jars appeared on the bedside table the next day. Gabriel brought in a few books and read them to you, gamely playing poker and whatever else he could do to pass your time. Every time he passed the jars, he’d put in whatever he had in his pockets—sometimes a few dollars, sometimes only a coin or two. Every night he’d kiss you and tell you that Mary and Juan would be the first Reyeses to go to college.

The doctors were whispering in the hallways the next morning when you woke up. Gabriel stood up, his body sore and stiff from sleeping in the chair all night. He looked at you and then the doorway. “I’ll see what it is.”

Without waiting for you to respond, he walked to the doorway and listened. He just stood there, listening silently. For someone so tall and strong, he was able to be just about silent when he wanted.

The doctors must have moved on, because he frowned and came back to your bedside. “Do you want to know?”

“What is it?”

He shrugged, frowning at the doorway. “They’ve isolated the SEP. Done samples and...it’s not looking—.”

“It’s not good, is it?”

He couldn’t look at your face. “It’s...difficult. The pregnancy is...going to be hard on you.” He took your hands in his own. “What.... Mi alma.”

The doctor cleared his throat from the doorway. “Mister and Missus...uh....”

Gabriel spun and snarled at him. “What?!”

“Well, we would like to tell you our results....”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is NSFW and has blatant smut in it.

Gabriel kept standing, his eyes cold as ice. “And?”

“And...the pregnancy.” The doctor flinched as the taller man stood over him. “We...ran some tests...and...it’s not...promising.”

Gabriel only growled. “Just spit it out as nicely as you can.”

“Well, sir,” the doctor sputtered and fidgeted nervously. “The SEP has had...profound effects on the...well, the children.” He took out his chart and the stuffed folder. “The SEP’s effect of rapid cellular generation has...increased the rate of growth. It was supposed to make the super soldiers less susceptible to wounds and to allow rapid buildup of muscle density—.”

“Get on with it,” Gabriel snapped, crossing his arms.

“So, the two surviving children are...well, they are as developed as if they were more like five months. They crowded out the third child.” He flinched again. “But it is...causing severe complications.

“The lady’s.... well, sir, her uterus is not able to expand as fast as the children are growing. It’s what caused the blood spotting when she came in here. By having her on bedrest, she’s been laying flat and she’s been able to give them room.” The doctor shrugged. “But they are running out of room.”

“So what is the game plan?”

“We are going to give them as much time as possible without interventions. I know it will be hard, but they are going to get every minute I—we can give them. We will continue sonogram monitoring and try to make sure that their lungs are developed enough for them to breathe on their own. Usually we would give injections of steroids, but in this case, we are concerned that the SEP would have a side effect.

“When they are out of room, the waters will burst and we will do an c-section. Depending on the circumstances, we may or may not have a lengthy stay in the NICU ahead of us. In the best circumstances, they will be developmentally equivalent to five or six months—maybe seven if we are lucky.”

“And the worst circumstances?” Gabriel’s face grew more tight and his tone more frigid.

“We will do...the best we can.” The doctor shrugged. “Even without the difficulties of the SEP, multiple births are notoriously tricky and are prone to prematurity and complications.”

Gabriel looked at you. You nodded with a nervous breath. “Do everything you can, Doctor.”

So, you were tied to the hospital bed for as long as possible. Gabriel sat with you day in and day out, doing everything he could think of to amuse you. He brought puzzles and books and movies and recordings. There was precious little that you could do flat on your back as your belly twisted and swelled, but Gabriel was determined to make it easy on you. He made recording after recording—telling family stories and jokes and singing songs. He was thrilled to show you the pictures of his family. Every third day, he would be gone for the night and come back with a new bag of tricks.

It was very late when you heard him stir and close the door to your room. It must have been very late because even the corridor was quiet and the lights dimmed.

“Shhhh,” he whispered as he moved his chair to where you could see him. “We don’t want to wake the neighbors.”

“What are you doing, Gabriel?”

“Just watch,” he sighed back.

You did. You were riveted to watching him as he cupped himself through his trousers and his fingers slowly pulled down the zipper. In moments, he was able to slouch in the chair, holding his cock.

“Mi alma—this is what you do to me.” He grinned, his teeth almost glowing white in the dimly lit room. “I have been thinking about you all this time. I have been watching you—and you are lovely.”

His fingers wrapped around his cock and slid up to cup the head. Your mouth went dry as you saw his hand slide down and his hard dick bob.

“I have never seen a more beautiful mother,” he groaned. “And to have you tied to a bed is a...fantasy of mine.”

His hand slid up and you saw a bead of moisture come out of the top. His meaty thumb rubbed it. You gasped to see him as he rocked back on the chair and push his hips up. Even through his gray pallor his cock was ruddy as he stroked it.

You let out a whine, unable to reach fully around your belly to touch yourself in turn. He tilted his head up to grin at you and bring a finger to his lips.

His voice was a whisper that you barely heard. “Quiet, hermosa. You don’t want anyone to see your private show, do you?”

You shook your head, feeling your breath catch. You certainly didn’t want any of the night nurses or the doctors to see your Gabriel. Let them dream—he was yours.

He leaned back again and with a shimmy let his pants drop just enough that you could see him pull out his balls and cup them. He pumped up once and you licked your lips at him. He began a slow stroke—a teasing stroke—that made you want to leap up and mount him. 

When you saw that devilish gleam of mischief in his eyes, you made your counter move. Wrapping your fingers of one hand around two fingers of your other, you made a pumping motion and licked your own fingertips.

Gabriel’s breath caught as you licked and then sucked. His cock throbbed and his hand squeezed its aching length. Pumping up, he was rewarded to see you match his movement beat for beat. That was amazingly hot. He felt a shiver go down his back as you brought up your fingers and stuck them down your mouth like you were suckling him.

His hips shot up into his hands and a spurt of liquid—clear precum—came out. Frozen in place, he watched as your mouth worked your own fingers. When you saw that he had stopped, you smirked in return and pulled open the hospital gown to show him your swollen breasts.

He growled low in his throat. One hand was on his cock and the other was in a tight fist on his thigh as he watched you massage your breasts and pluck gently at your nipples. The most beautiful mother ever, you kept pushing the plump flesh up to the air where he was supposed to be and watching him with wide, innocent and devilish eyes before sucking at your fingertips again.

He lazily pushed up again and froze as he heard someone’s footsteps come down the hall. You froze too. But whoever it was, whatever they wanted, they walked past the closed door.

Taking in a deep breath, he smeared the scant liquid on his thumb and leaned over to offer it to you. You grinned and licked and suckled his thumb clean of every drop and he bit his fist to stop from crying out. Leaning back, he grabbed his aching cock and shivered as he stroked up and down again.

He could see that your eyes were blown wide, dark with passion. Your nipples were tight little peaks and your cheeks were flushed. Your thighs in the massaging boots were spread wide. You were turned on as hell just from watching him.

His stomach clenched and his breathing hissed in and out from behind his fist as he slid his hand up and down again. Seeing you watching him as you rubbed your breasts with featherlight strokes, he grunted and slammed his hips on the chair.

The chair squeaked as Gabriel’s hips snapped into his hand. You were enjoying his little peep show and stopped teasing to watch him throw his head back and cum all over his hand and legs.

Without losing a beat, he brought his hand over to your mouth. His entire body shivered as you lapped at his skin and drank in the thick, cool seed as though it was honey and milk. “Mi alma,” he whispered, kissing you softly and tasting himself on your lips.

With a grin, he kissed you again. “Quiet, now.”

You buckled as his rough fingers found your tight clit and stroked it. It was now your turn to bite your fist as he hummed in pleasure and gave you a light pinch. Within moments, he had your body wracked and shaking.

“G-g-Gabe!” He did not stop for you. “Gabe! What...if someone...comes?”

“You will,” he promised darkly and his rough tone sent fire through you.

Within another stroke, you sucked in a deep breath and fell over the edge with a hiss. His fingers teased your sopping cunt, but did not enter as you feebly bucked against his hand to ride out your climax. “Think you can sleep now?”


End file.
